


No Such Thing as a Three Car Race

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Initial D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2007-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1626221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryosuke gave him speed and cars and the ability to win, and so Keisuke will, in turn, give him anything he desires.  Even Takumi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Such Thing as a Three Car Race

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Shu for the beta. Without you this would not have been half as good as it turned out (scary thought). And thanks to everyone on IRC for putting up with the craziness and encouraging it.
> 
> Written for haraamis

 

 

Keisuke is three days past his eighth birthday and Ryosuke is ten. They have taken their bikes, at Ryosuke's whispered urgent summons, through the layer of pines that borders the family estate, to a trail that Keisuke has only heard rumors of. It is the playground of older boys. Keisuke knows that even under an older brother's protection he would be taunted and refused permission to ride, earning schoolboy scorn for both himself and Ryosuke, so he's never asked to come along. Therefore to be _invited_ is overwhelming, like Ryosuke has just been waiting for the perfect moment to surprise him...and maybe he has.

The track is empty. Of course, it's been threatening to rain all day, and the sun is rapidly setting, so that may be why the trail is deserted. But to eight-year old Keisuke, he is convinced his brother is a magician. There are lopsided mounds of dirt for jumps, a narrow plank bridge over a trickling stream, even a painstakingly cobbled-together ramp. But what catches Keisuke's eye and refuses to let go of his imagination is the hill. They live on a mountain, after all, so it is no surprise, but this is more than a mere hill. It is a natural half-pipe: two small hills separated by a narrow gully, so that the riders can fly down the first slope, letting gravity do most of the work, then with the proper combination of speed, luck, and sheer stubbornness, mount the second slope to attain a victoriously safe landing. However, the nervous, the unlucky, and the unwary, will slide back down into a crumple of scraped knees and dented bicycle at the bottom. It seems to be almost perfectly designed to excite an insane lust for adventure in small boys. When Keisuke gazes at Ryosuke sitting atop his bike at the edge of the slope, he seems to him a ten year old emperor of a kingdom of speed.

"Come on," Ryosuke says, a strange smile in his voice, "like this." And when his brother greets him with almost palpable pride on the other side of the slope, as Keisuke whoops with delight, eyes wide and fingers trembling from the adrenaline rush, he realizes that Ryosuke has given him the world.

************

It isn't like Keisuke woke up one morning and said to himself, "Damn, I'd really like to nail my brother." It built up from childish hero worship, through years spent sharing dreams and beers and racing tips, over late nights on mountaintops and leftover okonomiyaki. It came from the rush of speed, endorphins pumping through his system like the world's most addictive drug, and from looking into Ryosuke's eyes after every race and seeing "You did good" and "You will do better." And so it gradually built from finishing a series of late night runs with Ryosuke and wishing vaguely that he had someone he could hold, he could kiss, he could shake with until the blood stopped singing in his veins and everything stopped moving so slowly, to looking over and recognizing the same feeling in Ryosuke's eyes, to realizing that the person he most wanted to do all those things to was standing right next to him. It scares Keisuke and thrills him more than any pin curve on Akagi.

But he can live with it. He can stuff it all down in that corner of his mind where he keeps his doubts and frustrations when he races, and only bring it out when it's safe-when the world has sped back up to its normal pace and there's no glitter of recognition in Ryosuke's eyes. He can keep his smile light and his hands to himself. Because there are 'supposed to's and then there are 'can't's. And though wanting Ryosuke is something he wasn't supposed to do, he can deal with it. Having him, however, is something he can't do, and even Keisuke is smart enough to realize that.

That is, until he hears the story of the ghost car of Akina and meets a tofu delivery boy who turns everyone's lives inside out.

********************

"He's a tease," Keisuke growls furiously. "Driving like a fucking pro and then blinking up at you out of those great cow eyes and pretending he'd need help finding one end of the car from the other." He's just like those girls at school, all those Harajuku wannabes always bending over in their short skirts and giggling over their boy-love mangas, then squealing 'pervert' if you try to move past kissing. Ecept Takumi is worse because he leaves you frustrated and excited and not knowing whether you want to beat him or kiss him or both. Fucking tofu delivery boys driving fucking _Truenos_ are not supposed to get him hard.

Apparently, though, really good driving turns him on, and while it helps put the thing-the Ryosuke thing-in perspective it doesn't help in that now he wants two guys and he can't have either. Because he watches his brother and so he knows what he sees there. The same excitement, the same desire, the same frustration at having to be patient and go slow. Watching Takumi race, he and his brother could be twins. Therefore, Keisuke knows that he has to give him up. Ryosuke gave him speed and cars and the ability to win, and so Keisuke will, in turn, give him anything he desires.

*****************

It is surprisingly not that awkward having Takumi come over to the house for dates. Unlike most girls, Keisuke can sit around and talk cars and not feel like he is boring the other person to death, and if he gets a guilty thrill out of the conversations, it's still all perfectly within the bounds of friendship. Sometimes, when he realizes just how long he's sat there talking he'll apologize, but Ryosuke assures him that he doesn't mind and really seems to mean it. In all, it's so much easier than any of their other previous relationships.

One evening, when Ryosuke is tied up with a difficult pneumonia case, Keisuke mentions the fact to Takumi. He recalls, with rolled eyes and a smirk, how on one similar occasion he'd frightened off one of Ryosuke's would be girlfriends by describing in gory detail the car wreck they'd been in. Keisuke was fifteen and Ryosuke had spun out going down a rain-slicked curve just a little bit faster than he should have. Keisuke had broken his collarbone and sliced open his upper left arm, while Ryosuke, the lucky bastard, had just gotten scratches. When Keisuke had described how the bone was sticking out and the blood soaking through his shirt, the girl turned pale and rushed out the front door with barely a stammered excuse. All Keisuke would say when Ryosuke arrived twenty minutes later was that she would have made a terrible doctor's wife.

Takumi and Keisuke are still laughing about the story when Ryosuke walks in the door and asks what is so funny. Takumi recounts the anecdote and Ryosuke smiles. "That was when I really decided to take up medicine." It isn't until later, when the other two have left for their date, that Keisuke's brain catches up, and he realizes that Ryosuke meant the accident, and not the girl.

***************

It is not so surprisingly much harder to watch the two of them together. To see the way Ryosuke can brush his thumb up the inside of Takumi's forearm and make that sleepy gaze turn suddenly hot. To watch the way Ryosuke will stare at Takumi like he is trying to memorize him the way he memorized the racing stats and engine specs. To imagine that _he_ is the cause of Takumi's blushes, the one who gets to find out if he's ticklish, and whether he is as quiet in bed as he is everywhere else. To go further, to dare to imagine Ryosuke, cool, competent Ryosuke losing control, overcome and speechless under _his_ hands and _his_ mouth. To fantastically, impossibly imagine them both in his bed, pressed against him.

It means that there are times, almost at random, when a thought, an image will come into Keisuke's mind so strongly he will choke on desire. There will be times when he excuses himself quickly behind a closed a door to finish himself off, and, occasionally, days he'll spend making up weak excuses to avoid the two of them, before finally giving in to his cravings.

***************

There's no such thing as a three car race in downhill racing. The nature of the course and the techniques means that unless one of the lead cars was staggeringly slow, the third car would never have a gap large enough to move up into. It's not something anyone's ever had to explain to Keisuke; he's always known it in the same way he's known that you need to move the weight to the front in order to get the back to slip. It's common sense.

They're doing practice runs, and it is raining slightly, which Ryosuke approves of, since the weather reports have been predicting scattered showers for the next weekend. As he'd put it, he'd 'rather have lower traction data results that he could trend up from in case of good weather than vice versa'. Whatever. All it really means to Keisuke and Takumi is that they'll be getting wet. Of course, they _could_ sit inside the car when it's their turn to watch the others race, but Keisuke knows that none of them will miss the chance to be as up close to the action as they can.

The rain means that it's also harder to hide the natural effects of seeing both Ryosuke and Takumi grinning and soaked to the skin. He can always blame it on racing. All of the guys have had reactions before, even his brother. It's not something you mention, out of courtesy. Also he doesn't actually want Ryosuke to know that he's been checking him out, fantasizing about him turning around and asking Keisuke if he'd like to jack off together. He's had too many weird looks as it is from both Ryosuke and Takumi lately. Keisuke worries he's being obvious, that it must be painted on his face, but neither one of them has avoided him or punched him in the face, so his secret must still be safe.

When all possible combinations of FC vs. FD vs. Trueno have been exhausted, and they are all drenched but still euphoric from the thrill of pushing their vehicles and their reflexes to the limit, Ryosuke calls it a night. He exchanges a slow look with Takumi, one that seems strangely intent, and Keisuke feels his blood pound with need. Fuck, to have them so _close_ , and not be able to touch...

They pile into their vehicles, Ryosuke in the lead, with Takumi following close behind him. Keisuke smiles wryly to himself as he makes his way to follow the two of them. Third wheel again tonight. He's used to this by now, right? It shouldn't hurt so much.

If they are heading down a bit faster than ordinary drivers, they are racers, and they have memorized this course's secrets. They haven't gone very far, though, when Takumi suddenly veers into the other lane and slows.

Concerned, Keisuke slows as well, but Takumi waves him ahead. Frowning now, Keisuke does, and Takumi immediately swings into position behind him and the two of them catch up with Ryosuke. Who also, after a moment, pulls into the other lane and slows, waving Keisuke ahead of _him_.

Keisuke is by now confused and frustrated. Are they trying to ditch him? But just then, Takumi pulls ahead of Ryosuke, slotting into the middle position and nosing around like he wants to pass. Keisuke slaps his palm in frustration against the steering wheel. What the fuck are they trying to play here? Passing and slowing down, changing positions, like this is some sort of a race...

Fuck. He wants to beat on the dashboard. A three car race. The looks they keep giving him. Ryosuke, who taught him how to drive, to race, to compete with honor and determination for whatever he wanted... Takumi, with his almost psychic intuition for knowing when to hold back and when to surge ahead, even on an unfamiliar course... And they...do they seriously think that he...that _they_ could work this out some way? Some way that doesn't end in the worst crash and burn Keisuke's ever seen? It's ludicrous.

He brakes violently, pulls over onto the shoulder and stops the car. Keisuke wrestles with his seatbelt for a moment before he is free, and running down the slope of a mountain, head turned down against the rain, not even caring about the uneven ground until gravity and the inevitable bring him down.

He is not surprised when two pairs of shoes come into his field of vision. He is too tired to get up, and perhaps they sense that, for they both lay down on the grass and mud as well, one on either side.

Keisuke tries not to pound his head against the ground. "If that was supposed to be some sort of stupid metaphor or something, then you're... you're... bigger idiots than I expected." It is the first time he has ever called his brother an idiot, and Keisuke cringes when he hears the words, not because he thinks for a minute that Ryosuke will believe him on the insult, but because he knows Ryosuke will not believe him on the denial. "It won't work. It can't work," he revised. "People aren't designed for that sort of a...a relationship."

"The Skyline GT-R isn't designed to drift, but tell that to Hoshino," Takumi points out, unexpectedly and unhelpfully, at least from Keisuke's point of view. Of course, at this point, anything that reminds him of his revelation of the last few minutes isn't helping.

On Keisuke's left, Ryosuke has rolled on his side, propped up one arm, looking down at him like he's trying to figure out the infinite lines of Keisuke. The rain has soaked through his thin white button down, and it clings like a second skin, so that Keisuke has doesn't know where he's more afraid to look, at Ryosuke's body or his face. On Keisuke's right Takumi has his eyes closed and his head turned toward Keisuke's so that every breath stirs the short hairs on the back of his neck. The tips of Takumi's fingers are rubbing small circles on Keisuke's wrist.

"This isn't a race," Ryosuke says, and even with that hesitant line to his mouth that says he is afraid someone will end up hurt, he is still resolute.

Keisuke's head hurts.

This is madness. This is suicide. This is... the biggest fucking thrill of his entire life, and okay, so it's a horribly bad idea and completely against all common sense and will most likely end up with him getting hurt. So's racing.

Heart pounding, raw adrenaline pumping through his nerves so that his fingers twitch involuntarily and his breath comes hissing out between his teeth, Keisuke closes his eyes to savor this moment. His voice, when he finds it, is strangely hoarse. "So, do I have to take the lead in this too, or is one of you going to kiss me?"

In the moment that follows, if he cannot tell yet whose lips are kissing the smile off his face, well, then he still has plenty of time to learn.

 

 

 


End file.
